My Little Adventure with “Innovation”
So, I had this bright idea a while back. We were wrestling with this ancient piece of software at my old gig. You know the type, the one everyone complains about but nobody does anything. I figured, hey, I can fix this. I can make something better, something people will actually want to use.
I got the green light, sort of. More like a “fine, go play with your little project, don’t bother us too much” kind of green light. But hey, an opening is an opening, right? So, I dove in. I spent weeks on it. Nights, weekends, the whole nine yards. I wasn’t just coding; I was thinking. Thinking about the folks who’d use it, trying to get into their heads. I made sketches, mockups, talked to a few people who were willing to listen. I wanted this thing to be smooth, intuitive, a breath of fresh air.
And I built it. A shiny new prototype. It wasn’t perfect, but man, it was a world away from the dinosaur we were all chained to. I was actually pretty proud of it. Simple, clean, did the job without all the headaches. I scheduled a demo, got the key people in a room. This was it, I thought. They’re gonna love this.
The Big Reveal… Or Was It?
I walked them through it. Showed them the easy bits, the clever bits, how it solved all those problems they moaned about every single day. And then… silence. Not the good kind of silence, not the “wow, we’re speechless” kind. More like the “is he done yet?” kind of silence.
Then the questions started. But they weren’t about the new features. They were questions like: “So, where’s that button that used to be here?” or “Can I still do it the old way? That convoluted, 20-step process?” It was like they hadn’t heard a word I said. Or if they had, they just didn’t care. They wanted their old, familiar misery back.
I tried to explain again. Patiently. “Look, that old button is gone because you don’t need it anymore. This new way is faster, easier.” More blank stares. Some nodding, but the eyes were glazed over. It was like talking to a brick wall. A very polite, slightly bored brick wall.
- They asked for features that were already there, just in a more logical place.
- They worried about things that weren’t problems anymore.
- They just… didn’t want to change. Not one bit.
The feedback session was basically them trying to shoehorn the new tool into the old workflow, or worse, asking me to just make the old tool “a bit prettier.” My shiny, streamlined solution? It was like I’d presented a sports car to someone who only knew how to ride a donkey and was now asking where the saddlebags went.
So, What Happened Next?
Not much, to be honest. The prototype gathered digital dust. The old system stayed. The complaints continued. And me? I learned something that day. You can build the most amazing thing, solve all the problems, make it foolproof. But if your audience isn’t ready to listen, if they’ve already decided they like their comfortable rut, then you’re just whispering in a hurricane. The audience, for all intents and purposes, was deaf.
It wasn’t even malicious. They just couldn’t see it, or maybe didn’t want to. It’s a funny thing, human nature. Sometimes, the familiar discomfort is preferred over the unfamiliar solution. I moved on from that place not long after. Not just because of this, but it was one of those little nudges, you know? Made me think about where I was spending my energy.
So yeah, that’s my little tale about the time I tried to give people a life raft and they asked if it came in beige to match their sinking ship. You live and learn, right? Or at least, you live.
